When my daughter was in preschool, teachers said at various times,
“Your daughter is very independent.”
At first this sounded positive. After hearing this a few times though, I started to wonder. So, the next time I heard it, I decided to ask.
“Does that mean that she’s not listening to you?”
“Oh, no no! That’s not what I meant.” The teacher took a few steps back and waved her hand. Then, what do you really mean? She tried to backpaddle but came back to the same statement.
“You have a very independent daughter.” I felt that I needed to say something to save us from this awkward situation, and made a meaningless catch-all comment. “Well, that can be both good and bad.” She was visibly relieved with this and nodded so dramatically that her whole neck was extended. This was my first encounter with American positive reframing.
When my son was in Kindergarten, he ran to me with joy and handed me a monochromatic artwork. “Oh, this looks mysterious. How did you make this?” “Yeah, I was supposed to draw in crayons first and then color it in, but I used watercolor paint first by accident. But it looks pretty good!” Although I was beginning to say something about it, I stopped myself, thinking, “Well, if he’s happy about it, then I’ll be happy about it.” He didn’t need a positive reframing, as he didn’t see any problem with his artwork. This gap in perception may be trivial at times, but can cause a lot of frustration on Japanese who work with Americans.
Still, pointing out a perceived problem is straightforward. But for Japanese, dealing with positive reframing in business can take a little bit of getting used to. Americans may say, “There’s a learning curve when it comes to accounting and I’m somewhere in the middle.” Or “I’m developing my presentation skills.” Newly arrived Japanese need to learn how to decode these messages and to encourage themselves to apply an optimistic attitude. That is to say that you understand their skills are not up to par, but that you are happy that they’re improving.
Earlier on, American’s positive reframing seemed invincible. However, over time I started to see Americans stumped at things that were beyond the power of positive reframing.
One early spring day, my son came home from a play date and said, “My friend’s mom called me a liar. She told me to stop lying, but I wasn’t!” So, I asked what was the subject.
“Your age!” my age? “Yeah. I said you are fifty years old.” Well, I was actually older than that. “And then she got mad at me!”
Age is a rather sensitive subject especially for American women. Many of my female friends swear not to reveal their ages. It has something to do with the national culture; Americans value youth and the vitality that comes with it. Consequently, many American women feel compelled to look young, if they are older than they think they should be. But it’s a fact of life. If you keep living, then you tend to get older. When you really value something, and you know it’s guaranteed to decline, then it’s hard to sugar coat it.
Another item that is hard to spin positively is a weight issue. If you’re overweight, you are at greater risk for diabetes, heart disease and other numerous health problems. And obviously, if you die, although you may die young, you can’t live youthfully. Knowing these hard facts makes it very difficult to spin it in a positive direction.
Believe it or not, being a little chubby in Japan isn’t a bad thing. An adjective “fukubuku-shii” means “plump and healthy-looking” in Japanese and is written using the same Chinese character twice – “fuku” which means good fortune and happiness.
My father who’s in his eighties still tells me to eat more. He says, “Don’t hold back on your appetite!” He may want me to look wealthy and happy. I appreciate his good wish for me, however, I need to remind him of the fact that I’ve gained almost 20 pounds in the last 25 years living in the U.S. and that I can’t afford to grow out of my clothes. To that, my father responds, “Americans eat a lot.” He changes my nationality on a whim. This might be a positive reframing, Japanese style. When you see an inconvenient fact, you’ll attribute it to a different group of people.
I still have to say, though, that positive reframing is not institutionalized in Japanese culture, except at department stores. When a sales person says “You look much better in this dress,” you’ll understand that the other one is definitely not for you. But I’m not sure if that qualifies as positive reframing.
Japanese communicate with each other by simply describing the fact they observe. “This color looks good on you.” “This soup is very soothing to my tummy.” From American’s point of view, Japanese conversation may appear dull. Americans would sprinkle the same fact with word spice like “I love it!” “I’ve already started to feel better!” So, you can tell that Japan isn’t a fertile ground for positive reframing.
I do find American positive reframing exhausting at times. For example, it is flattering to hear someone say to me “You look young.” But I hear what they don’t say: for your age. I feel as if I need to twist my brain twice: first to understand the whole story, and then to appreciate that person’s kind intention.
In my last checkup, my doctor told me that I actually hadn’t gained any weight. Surprised, I blurted out, “But I feel heavy. My waist has definitely expanded.” She nodded warmheartedly, and gave me her diagnosis with a sympathetic smile,
“Well, weight redistribution is taking place.”
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry. Positive reframing doesn’t always make me happy.
My version of positive reframing is based on the hard fact: aging is a good alternative to death. For my waist line: I’m storing up calories for the winter of my life. I’m not just saying this; some Japanese medical reports say that slightly overweight people live longer than slender people. Well, obviously, I need to spin the “slightly” part to my advantage. It looks like it was time for me to learn how to reframe my reality positively, American style.
Oh, shoot! They haven’t figured that out yet!